


YVK Chronicles

by ChainSmokesPens



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Flash Fic, Manga & Anime, Writers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28453791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChainSmokesPens/pseuds/ChainSmokesPens
Summary: Prompt: [WP] Your unfinished novel sits as a file on your computer that you haven’t touched in months. Your protagonist just kicked in your front door and demands that you finish it.





	YVK Chronicles

The front door burst inward, nearly shredded as the immolated wood shard turned to ash before they hit the ground. Earl pushed away from his desk, leaping from his seat and landing with a heavy thud to the ground. He scrambled to his feet and let his fear take him, turning to run to his bedroom door.  
"Stop, Earl!"  
Earl complied, though only because he tripped on a sizeable pile of laundry and fell. He started to push himself up, hopping not to give his assailant time to do him any harm.  
The voice spoke again, the voice of a man in his mid-twenties, the voice of a man Earl's own age. "You are Earl Bronwyn, right? Author of YVK Chronicles?"  
Earl paused. He wasn't the author of YVK Chronicles, he'd never written it; nothing beyond an assortment of notes on the story existed on his computer. And he'd definitely never shared that title. It was horrible. Just a working title until he came up with something better.  
As he turned to face the man who'd burst into his apartment, his horror was replaced with confusion and horror.  
Standing before him was his protagonist, namely as he was to appear at the end of the story. The one-armed man was tall and bronze, his fantastic culture a nod to both Grecian and Ethiopian cultures. His curly hair was cut into a mohawk and his heterochromatic eyes were a dimmed green and a vibrant purple. A series of deep scars littered his neck and left pectoral, leading a trail to his severed arm.  
Yark V. Kormayo stared down at him and shot him a cocky smile.  
Earl was distracted from the wonder of his creation's existence for a moment. He couldn't wrap his head around Yark's smile. What would inspire a character to smile having burst into a room, he wondered. If they were to be a hero, it certainly wasn't the look of terror on the face of that room's occupant.  
A cringing discomfort tugged at the edges of Earl's face. Ever since putting YVK Chronicles down for a break, he'd decided that he would no longer design characters based on their appearances first. And, he'd decided not to base a novel so heavily from ideas taken from anime. In his mind's eye, Yark V. Kormayo was as much of an Adonis as he was the zenith of Herculean might. Seeing him in person, he was a mess.  
"Hey, man. I wanted to talk to you about something," he said, approaching his supine, fearful god.  
The cringing sensation within Earl grew. What was with his dialogue, he wondered. It felt off, tonally inconsistent with the fact that he'd just obliterated his door and gave him a near-threatening grin. It was simple, blunt, and didn't portray anything about his character. It just moved the course of events along.  
And why did he sound like Christopher Sabat?  
"What is it?" A hand was extended to Earl and he took it, being pulled up faster than his body could handle. It took his arm nearly popping out of it's socket to remind him that Yark was a five-time reincarnated primordial human, capable of feats of strength that no one in his age of existence was capable of.  
"I need you to finish my story."  
The author was stunned. Confused. "Your story?"  
"Yes. The story you're writing about me and my adventures. I need you to finish it."  
There was a protracted silence before Earl continued. "You're aware that you're in a story?"  
"Yeah."  
"And that I'm, your author?"  
"Yeah."  
There was another long pause as Earl pondered this situation. Years of obsession with folklore and mythology had exposed him to the concept of tulpas and thoughtforms, living creatures crafted solely from the power of belief. He didn't imagine it would be his belief alone that could've brought Yark to life though.  
He had told his friend Jordan about the story in high school, but Yark wasn't this character at that time. The eight years between graduation and independent adult life had changed the nature of the hero's story so much that only Earl knew what Yark's dramatic appearance was about.  
That Yark's culture disapproved of shaving a head bald, but the rebellious teen did so until inspired to grow a mohawk by his newfound father figure. That his heterochromia was do to being part Hellan, the Greece-inspired country, and part Ile Agemian, the Ethiopian inspired country; the name of which was actually taken from words found in Nigerian culture. That the scars covering his body were received in the final battle of the series as he and his friend hopped across the celestial bodies to defeat an army of divine and semi-divine people.  
Earl shook his head and came back to the moment, his creation staring at him expectantly, his ever-confident expression emblematic of his roots in Shonen Jump magazines.  
"I only put it down to get some other ideas out of my head. But, I guess it's been long enough that I can get back to it." The idea of returning to YVK Chronicles didn't especially bother him. He was at a brick wall regarding his current story; an action series centered on a magical school wherein a malevolent outside force threatened the sanctity of the world of magic. Earl was having trouble making it not sound like Harry Potter.  
Yark's toothy grin expanded and he turned to leave, waving goodbye over his shoulder and saying, "Thanks. And don't feel too bad about the arm. I barely felt it."  
Earl remembered coming up with that too, as his protagonist stepped through his singed door frame. Accidental amputations in real life were gruesome and nearly indescribably painful. It was much easier and cooler for a character to lose a limb mid-fight but find the strength to keep on going.  
He stood his chair upright, sat at his desk, saved and closed his file for the Bewitching Realm of Henrietta Cobbler, and pulled up the old file for YVK Chronicles.  
His method of organization hadn't changed over the years; categorize by the date of creation. At the topmost part of the document were the books and shows and mythologies that inspired this story. In the case of YVK Chronicles, it was a lot of anime.  
Moving down, he found the section on the deities. Each member of his pantheon was a twist on the Olympians, though with their detrimental nature's even more augmented. You couldn't kill gods if they weren't bad people.  
He moved down to the countries. He wasn't bothered by the names; Hellas, Norde, Märchenland, et cetera. Each gave a proper idea of what culture inspired it, though reading details of his depictions of the various cultures, surface-level portrayals of what they seemed to him as an American man, he figured it would be best to rework them.  
The magic system was next. And it was a mess. He counted out forty-four different mana types, decided that was unacceptable, and moved on.  
Next were the characters. The shallow, simple characters. The characters whose descriptors included their name, age, sex, place of birth, and what character inspired their creation; their appearance. And, once again, all anime. The list of names was nine pages long, with only the protagonist and his associates getting the most detail.  
Scrolling emptily through the many names and arriving at the section devoted to plot, he found it sparse. A flurry of empty bullet points broken by the occasional sentence.  
He starred at the document for a few minutes. Thirty minutes. An hour. He closed it and cut the entire file from its place on his flash drive, depositing it into a file called "Scrapped Stories".  
The place where newer, hopefully better, ideas would scavenge.

**Author's Note:**

> The first of these that I'm actually posting the day that I wrote it. A bit of it's embellishments on an old abandoned story, but the worst parts are more accurate than they aren't.


End file.
